“The three children seated themselves by the stately white cat; slowly the ragged coat was opened and out sprang a frisky plebeian kitten right under the Angora’s aristocratic nose. What a picture it was. The little black kitten startled and dazed by the light and warmth, and a great prince of a cat towering over her. Snowball was frozen into an attitude of horror at the unexpected apparition. Every hair stood erect and his back looked like a deformed hunch, while his yellow eyes flashed fire.
“‘Naughty, naughty Snowball,’ called Baby, when the cats had gazed at each other for a full minute. ‘It’s little, and it’s cold and it’s hungry.’
“Whatever he thought of Baby’s reproof, Snowball did think it was time to act, and like a flash the white paw darted at the offending kitten’s ear, and, I am ashamed to say, he spit most crossly in its frightened little face, then at one bound he sprang to the mantle-piece and sat there growling. The children looked dismayed; the little kitten stood looking up at its unsociable host with a sweet, questioning little face, uttering mild little mews of protest in answer to his thunderous growls.
“Then Brown Eyes’ wrath broke, and folding the kitten in loving arms, he said to Snowball, ‘You bad, ungrateful ill natured cat, I am surprised at you, petted and cuddled and fed on good things, you turn and spit at a poor little kitten, who only looked up into your face and asked you to love it. We’ll go away and leave you. You can stay there, and we’ll get a saucer of cream for this kitten who is far nicer than you, cross cat; you bad cat, we’ll leave you to yourself.’
“Left to himself Snowball repented but, alas! the door was shut. The merry voices that resounded through the house did not call him, while through the still room sounded the voice of his taunting enemy, that hateful clock, the words of which his conscience could so well interpret, ‘Cross cat, bad cat, bad cat.’”
For years Mrs. Booth went from place to place throughout the United States raising money for the Volunteer Prison League, but when her father died he left her a small fortune. Now she uses this money for the great cause she loves, and is spared the hard work of traveling and speaking. Those who have heard her, remember a small woman with a soft, beautiful voice. This voice urged the world not to look at trouble and failure, but to lend a helping hand to men and women who want to lead a better life by following the stars of hope.